


Communion

by annundriel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4471109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annundriel/pseuds/annundriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bull spreads him out before the fire, rugs and furs and blankets laid down to ward off the chill of stone that Dorian complains of even in the warmest southern days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communion

**Author's Note:**

> A companion--in spirit--to [this tumblr fic](http://annundriel.tumblr.com/post/125297738392/prompt-bulldorian-facial-where-dorian-is).

The Bull spreads him out before the fire, rugs and furs and blankets laid down to ward off the chill of stone that Dorian complains of even in the warmest southern days. It makes the Bull smile, his complaints; they weave a familiar pattern into the day, Dorian's voice rising and falling with joys and exaggerated sorrows.

Dorian feels deeply, intensely. He tries to hide it, to distract with a wave of his hand and a flash of his teeth--a true showman--but the Bull sees. The Bull knows.

Dorian's skin flushes with feeling now, feeling and the proximity of the fire. There is sweat damp at the hollow of his throat, beginning to shine across the planes of his chest and stomach. The Bull kneels between his legs and smiles down at him, rubbing his palms up Dorian's calves to his knees. Dorian flinches when he gets there--ticklish--and the Bull makes note of that for later. He rubs his thumbs over Dorian's knees, ponders pulling him quickly to him, into his lap.

Dorian blinks up at him, movement slow, eyes dark. His cock curves up over his belly, hard and heavy. The head shines on the light of the fire, and the Bull's mouth waters.

"You're certainly taking your time this evening," Dorian says, his voice low and rough. His fingers play at his hip. "Perhaps I should--"

He stops Dorian's fingers with his own. "Are you in a hurry?"

Dorian's mouth curls at the corner, a temptation. "No," he answers. "But I had a thought to come more than once tonight."

The Bull's lap can wait. He grins at Dorian, and Dorian's eyes narrow.

"What are you--"

"You'll come more than once, kadan," he says, giving Dorian's fingers a squeeze before releasing them. "I promise you that."

Dorian hums. "We'll see."

The Bull chuckles. He loves a challenge, though this isn't one. Not a true one. He knows Dorian well by now, knows how to give him pleasure, when to push forward and hold back. It is the knowledge of months of doing this built up inside him, an intimacy unlike either of them have known. It is both comfortable and exciting, and the Bull's heart beats hard in his chest as he smiles down at Dorian. His hand slips back to Dorian's knee, and then he pushes his hands up the muscles of his thighs, the hair there rubbed against the grain and tickling his palms.

"Do you trust me?"

Dorian stares at him, mouth dropping open in a surprised _O_. "I do," he says, "of course."

It is the Bull's turn to hum as he fits his hands to Dorian's hips, thumbs fitting just there in the cut of muscle and bone. Dorian makes a pretty picture, framed like this. He makes a pretty picture framed any way.

The Bull rubs a thumb against the hot skin low on Dorian's belly, and watches Dorian's cock twitch. Shifting, he presses one hand to the blankets beside Dorian's hip and rises up on his knees only to bend over him. He hovers there, suspended above, watching the firelight play over Dorian's skin, golden and flushed and warm, so warm even when he complains of the cold. He watches Dorian, and he thinks, _Yes, this is mine. He is mine, as much as anyone can be, and I am his_.

The thought should scare him. Should send him running for the hills. It doesn't. He's seen it coming on the horizon for a long time now, and _kadan_ has fallen easily from his lips for weeks, though Dorian has yet to ask the meaning. The Bull is ready for it.

The smile he gives Dorian is soft, and then he lowers himself between Dorian's legs to nuzzle at the crease where thigh meets hip, to breathe in the smell of him there where it is thickest. The hair at his groin is coarse against the Bull's cheek, his lips; the Bull loves it, loves it and the feel of smooth, hot skin beneath. The sharp indrawn hiss of breath from above as he turns his head to mouth at Dorian's balls. He sucks, gently, at one, and a tremor runs through Dorian.

" _Bull_." Dorian's voice is almost steady. It trembles, though, at the edges, as Dorian's fingers touch his horns, his temple, his cheek. "Bull, I want--"

He looks up at Dorian, their eyes meeting across the length of his torso. "I know what you want," he says, and then he presses his mouth to the base of Dorian's cock, kisses him there before he licks him from root to tip, shifting to fit his lips around the head.

Above him, Dorian groans, his hands scrabbling at the Bull, finding purchase at his horns. 

Dorian fits perfectly between his lips, head hot and smooth against his tongue, and the Bull groans in response. His own cock lies heavy between his legs, ignored for this. Later, he will push Dorian's knees to his chest, test his flexibility--though he knows exactly how flexible Dorian can be already--and fuck him until he's coming for the promised second time. Later, he will spend himself in Dorian, cock buried deep. Perhaps turn Dorian over after he's withdrawn and taste himself there, come between those muscles cheeks.

Later.

He sucks Dorian down, shallow at first, and then deeper, deeper. Welcomes the stretch at the corners of his mouth and the nudge of Dorian's cock against the back of his throat. He hums and swallows, and Dorian bucks beneath him, keens above. The Bull's heart thuds in his chest. His cock aches.

He pulls off with an obscene sound, wet and messy, and Dorian looks at him like he's out of his mind, like he would hex him if he could, turn him into a toad or worse.

The Bull ignores him with a smirk and wraps a hand around his shaft, strokes him once, twice, three times until Dorian's muscles tighten and his hips lift and he's tipping over that edge, come landing on his belly, the Bull's hand. The Bull's lips and chin and neck.

The Bull grins and licks his lips, tastes Dorian everywhere. Would happily recline and let Dorian kneel above him, strip him with come. He'd be proud to be marked so, to leave the confines of this room and smell like Dorian still. Carry it throughout his day, a welcome reminder.

He strokes Dorian through it, leaning down to lap at the head. He chuckles when Dorian hisses and bats at him half-heartedly.

"Too much?"

Dorian nods, his throat working as he swallows. "Yes, I--yes. Maker, you're going to be the death of me."

The Bull nuzzles at his thigh again, sucks a bruise against his hip. "I hope not, kadan," he says. "That was only round one."

Would that he were an artist, to preserve the look on Dorian's face.


End file.
